Thank Harry, we're meant to be!
by Crazy4Moony
Summary: Sirius gets dumped! Can you believe it! But why isn't he broken, and how come he thinks of Remus? Shouldn't he be all water-eyes-ish? One-night-stands and brief affairs later, he finally follows the dead man's advice. Go for the sexy werewolf! Will be R/S
1. Why isn't this the end of the world?

**Thank Harry, we were meant to be.**

_For Jack Solo Black & mandaxface._

Why isn't this the end of the world?

"I'm really sorry," you put your hands in your lap—_don't touch him._ "You know I love you, but not quite like I love Ron."

He's too sad and you hate it—it makes you want to reach out for him. And that's just _not done_. He's breaking up with you here, not the other way around! But... you can't help to wonder..._ why is his heart the only one that's breaking?_

Merlin knows you love Harry to pieces—oh yes, you'd been in love with him for a while now. But were you _really_? You enjoy kissing him senseless, and don't quite mind the feel of his body pressed against yours. But now that he's telling you that he's in love with Ron—_why aren't I in shambles? Why am I not crying?_

He opens his mouth to say something, gestures to take your hand, but you get off your chair—_don't touch him_. He looks shocked, thinks you're hurt, but you smile.

"It's okay Harry," you whisper. "It's really okay. I'm happy you're in love."

"You're..." he sounds disbelieving, and gets up—_no, don't touch me_—reaches out again—_get away!_—the world is still whole—_and I'd like to keep it that way! Don't touch me. _"Happy I'm in love?"

You nod. He frowns.

"I would've at least expected you to be sad." He grunts, crossing his arms—thank God, he's no longer attempting to touch you.

"I just want you to be happy." And luckily, that one is true. You don't like lying to Harry—he's a good boy, nice and has soft skin—people like that deserve the truth. _Though sleeping in the same bed with him has always been odd,_ you can't help to think.

"Do you love me at all?" He asks the inevitable and now you just have to hold him—_he's shaking, what else can I do?_

"Harry, please," he grabs your shirt as soon as your arms close around him. "Don't be sad, of course I love you. But let's both face it: we're not meant to be. You've fallen in love with Ron and I... well I don't know who I'll fall in love with, but it won't be you—can't be you."

He looks up at you with those emerald eyes—_they're teary, why are you crying Harry?_—and you have to smile. You _have_ to. _Come on, I'm trying to make you happy,_ but no matter how radiant your smile is, he's still heartbroken.

_Did I love him?_ You suppose you did—maybe in the way you loved the entire world, you needed him to be safe and never wanted him to be hurt. _But that's not reason enough to keep him in my arms forever._ You kiss his noise and he says he'll pack his bags—he and Ron need to leave tonight. _Tonight?_ And though the world doesn't break, it does hurt. He explains that Hermione will want to kill them both, so they need to leave for a while. He promises he'll write, and with that you part.

_Man,_ you think, _why was breaking up never easy when I was the one doing it?_ But you suppose it's different when you both feel that the love you share isn't the love you need.

By the time he's packed his stuff, you're in the sofa, staring at the ceiling—_it'll be just me_, you realise, _me and the house again_. And maybe you should call Remus? But you don't want to be a burden—he's your best friend, but since you and Harry started making out, he hasn't called much, barely wrote a letter as it was. Harry joked and said it was because he was jealous, and you'd always thought that Harry was insisting Remus wanted to be with him, until he'd frowned and said: "Sirius, I meant _you_ and Remus, you idiot." And kissed you lovingly on the chest.

It's a bit awkward—definitely when he wants to kiss you farewell. You pull back and smile apologetically, pecking him in the corner of his mouth. You can read him as his eyes start to shimmer with tears again—_he's questioning too much things._

"Harry, Love," you put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't cry. If you're going to leave someone, do it good."

First he seems to think you're bitter, but then he realises that's just _you_, and nods.

"I know, I know; why on earth am I crying," he laughs, and you grin. "But I _love_ you."

"And you've probably loved Ron ever since you laid eyes on him, so I'd go with the second option." You wink and he laughs again—_much like James used to laugh._

"Come on, off you go," you pretend to want to get rid of him, but can't help pecking him one last time—_this has been my lover for five months, I can peck him if I want to_. "Your new life awaits—and don't mind Hermione too much, I'll kick her if she dares interrupt your happy-ever-after."

And even though he told himself not to, he cries a bit as he leaves the house—_mad git, that boy. What on earth is he sad for, he broke up with me for God sakes_—but you can understand.

-

Two hours later you find yourself on the carpet—_how the fuck did I get here?_—and you figure you should clean the house a bit. Tomorrow will be another Order meeting, _minus two members,_ but you can't get up. Because _Harry always cleaned the house._

There's firewhiskey next to you, and you decide to take action. Slowly putting the bottle to your lips, you prepare to take a sip—but then you notice it's already empty. Frowning, _oh, apparently I'm already drunker than I thought,_ you get up and waggle to the kitchen. More drinks are wanted, so you search cupboards. You wonder why it doesn't hurt when you see the cornflakes Harry used to eat—_shouldn't it kill me inside? I'm the dumped one!_ You wonder why you can't be all unhappy and cry-baby-ish.

You really want to convince yourself that your love for Harry is so strong that you're heartbroken and just hiding it, but it's been a while since he dumped you—_three hours, at the least!_, and there's still no sudden coldness in your heart. _It's still not ice._ And why not? Why are you not even remotely upset by this? You want to be believe Harry's love is something you need—but you _can't_. He's a good boy, nice and has soft skin—people like that don't deserve to be lied about.

As a half-sober man, you decide that if you can't be hurt by this, you should at least pretend to be. So you do the only thing that seems even remotely like someone that just got dumped would do—_I'll go to the seediest nightclub in Soho! _How inventive you are.

You dress in front of the mirror, and can't help examining your own naked body. _Was this something Harry didn't want?_ You try to make yourself depressed, but it's not working. _Tss, if he doesn't want this nice ass, someone else will!_ You decide on tight jeans and a black shirt—_no name puns, but I look darn hot in Black!_ You nearly fall on your way downstairs, but all in all, you reach the door without too much unlucky incidents. Which only means no limbs are broken—though there's a nasty bruise on your bum.

And as you're dancing with the hottest, half-naked men alive, your mind wanders to Remus, and you still can't help but wonder—_why is the world not ending?_

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_**AN: Well, that's chapter one ;) Next up: **_**I have a gorgeous, naked man between my thighs and it's not good enough?**.

_**We, of course, know who the gorgeous, naked man is--but Sirius has no clue ;) Review and let me know what you think so far!**_

**(PS: this story was requested, and if you wanna know why: read the profile!)**

_For: Jack Solo Black, and mandaxface—both requested this fic from me, but I was reluctant to give it ;) I'm just not pro Sirius+AnyoneButRemus. But I suppose, since they're hooking up in the end, I can make him a little Manhooker-ish ;)_


	2. I have a naked man between my thighs

I have a gorgeous, naked man between my thighs and it's not good enough?

You wake up and feel your brains literally trying to thump their way out of your head. _Do not open your eyes. _You feel oddly satisfied and it isn't until you realise that you're naked, that you realise the body against yours can't be Harry's—you had been dating for a very long time, trying the whole oral sex thing, but never the actual _sex_, sex. And when with an innocent soul like Harry, you never dared to sleep in the nude, though he never had rejections and sometimes _forced_ you not to put your clothes back on. From Harry your mind switches to Remus—_when will I see that bastard again, it's been ages since we communicated_—but a body shifts between your legs and you remember that there's someone else in the bed.

Slowly you open your eyes—_not too fast or they'll burn out their sockets_—and glance down once. The hair is very hazel-ish, though not at all like Moony's—_Moony's hair is far more beautiful, it really is... wait, why am I thinking about Moony's hair?_ You quickly trail your eyes lower as to distract yourself and discover that the man has a really nice bum—_though I'm sure Moony's is hotte.._.—and then you feel something wet above your bellybutton and realise the man too, is awake.

One of your legs is wrapped around his back, and he lazily hosts himself up onto his arms, still resting against your body. He looks up at you and you realise _I shagged the young dark lord_._ Huh?_ Luckily this isn't Lord Voldemort, or you would've been in trouble. But no, that guy is dead. This was young Tom Riddle—_sort of the reincarnation of Lord Voldemort?_—well, you weren't sure why he was alive, but it was widely known that he was, and though he was a Slytherin through and through, he was perfectly harmless—_and gay! Lucky me!_

His eyes lock with yours and you lazily grin, while he quirks his lips in that ever-so-sexy way, and kisses you below the bellybutton. It seems that you've find your soul mate—_finally someone that understands that being frisky in the morning isn't necessarily a burden._ His tongue teases inside your navel and your hand plays with the hairs in his neck.

But, wait... _Oh my God! I did not shag the cute dark lord!_ But Tom's tongue trails lower and you sigh. _Oh well... while I'm at it, I might as well enjoy himself éh._

* * *

"Sirius, are you okay?" Tonks sounds so sympathetic and sorry for you.

You shrug and say: "Never been better." Reaching to get some coffee.

You're still in your pyjama—well, half of it, only wearing the loose trousers. You're really still tired, but it's quite obvious that the whole order has been waiting for you for a while now. So you shouldn't let them wait even longer. They all look a bit bored, and you ask why they didn't wake you.

"Well, with Harry and such, we thought you should rest." Molly smiled—_why does everyone think I'm heartbroken?_

"Oh, of course," Remus avoids your look and you wonder why. Everyone else tries to smile—most of the people are Weasleys, and you know they know who Harry left you for. "No problem, I'm really fine," the stair creaks and everyone looks at the hallway. You hear the person outside the door is hesitating. "You can come in," you call. "No one will eat you, I'm sure they had breakfast already."

And in comes Tom Riddle—_oh come on, couldn't he dress? Only the boxers, tsk_. Everyone looks absolutely shocked. So does he when he notices all the people.

"Wauw. You're really fast with the 'meet the family' thing." He says a bit awkwardly and you laugh.

"Stupid bastard," you give him coffee. "It's not because you bunk in my bed once that you get to meet the family, thought technically you already met them—killed my brother too."

He shrugs and sips.

"Wouldn't know to be honest—and doesn't 'bunking' in ones bed usually require sleeping?" He asks with a sexy wiggle of the brow.

Molly looks like she's about to faint. All the Weasleys have gone white, except for Bill and Charlie, who are grinning. Fred and George don't know whether they should be laughing or not. Tonks looks insulted and Remus—_why don't you look at me?_

"We didn't sleep?" You focus on the dark man next to you. "I can't remember."

He clacks his tongue, and decides he has the right to sit down—flops down next to Remus, who does not look happy with his choice.

"Really? From what I can recall, it was quite memorable."

"Well that happens when you have sex when you're sedated." You admit—you really were drunker than you'd thought you were.

Molly sneered: "Sirius, please, there's... kids..." she tries, but Fred and George frown and you laugh.

"They can hardly be seen as kids Molly," you nip some more coffee and wink at the twins. "And they're hardly as innocent."

Molly glares and Arthur coughs to shush her, and to remind you that you're here for a meeting. You focus on Tom again—_better send him off._

"You," you say, trying to make it sound as passionate as possible—if only to piss Molly off. "Move the sexy arse up the stairs and get dressed: no one but me has the right to sit half-naked in this kitchen."

He quirks his eyebrows and gets up, hand on his hip.

"You make me feel like a little brat, bastard." He sneers—_but oh, in that hot way of his._

"Well, I'm betting you're one hundred years old so you can be treated as a kid, move the sexy touche!" He grunts and on his way out you can't help but slap his ass—_ah, the look on Molly's face is worth it!_—he glares back at you, as if saying: 'you didn't just do that' but leaves the room nonetheless—you know that by the time you get back upstairs he won't have dressed. No. He'll probably be completely naked. _Dark Lords are quite horny, aren't they?_

You flop down next to Remus and as soon as the footsteps disappear Molly explodes.

"What is wrong with you!" She demands.

"Excuse me?" You question, leaning back coolly.

"Harry's gone for one day, and you're already seeing someone else!"

"Honestly Molly," you roll your eyes. "That's called sex. People have it a lot. And I'm sorry, but it's the first time I've been dumped, and I needed a drink and then there was a hot guy there an well I woke up this morning and then there was someone in my bed and I thought 'why the hell not?' You seem to think I never loved Harry at all?"

"Well did you?" She's so cold and you get up immediately.

"If you ever dare question that again, I'd rather you leave my house now," she seems to regret she asked. "Harry means a lot to me—of course I loved him. But I won't be the one to stop him from being happy. Be honest Molly, is this about me loving Harry, or Ron?"

She sighs deeply—_she really isn't okay with this._

A hand is on your arm—_Moony._ But when you look down he's still avoiding your eyes.

"Sit back down Sirius, please. Molly, just relax. He's a grown man—Sirius can have sex with whoever he wants to." But the way he says it...

"I like that you're sticking up for me, but you could at least make it sound as if you mean it." You say, trying to look into his eyes, but he just turns around without answering. It's very tense in the kitchen.

Then Arthur coughs and begins with the important stuff—_all I care about is Moony right now. Why are you not talking to me?_

And two hours later there is this gorgeous man between your thighs, and you're making him pant and moan and scream for more—_but why is this not enough?_

**AN: Sirius is such a whore!! hoots! Haha :D Never thought I'd actually say this but... I'm quite enjoying this :) The writing of the story I mean... :) SO... loads of feedback and I'll upload soon!**

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